


"It's not your time yet"

by EmpireOfTheClouds



Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: And I just, Angst, Book 2: City of Ashes, Drabble, F/M, I love Simon more than he loves stupid band names, Oh also, One-Sided Love, Really wanted this to exist, References to Past Self-Harm, Torture, Unrequited Love, Why am I like this someone slap me, so have it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 05:57:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20830529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmpireOfTheClouds/pseuds/EmpireOfTheClouds
Summary: Simon's (almost) death in City of Ashes from his point of view.





	"It's not your time yet"

**Author's Note:**

> So I finished City of Ashes and it left me a fucking mess and I just really wanted to write this because my love for Simon is v a s t

"Clary" was the only word he could utter.  
Clary. The only girl he ever loved.  
He could almost see her behind his closed eyelids now; her bright red hair, messy and tangled but beautiful nonetheless; her sparkling eyes; her bright smile as she looked at him, spreading her tiny arms apart as if telling him to come to her, to pick her up and hug her.  
He wanted nothing more than that.  
He didn't even stop to think about it. He ran to her-  
And then the pain started.  
Like ten million needles piercing through his throat, working it open.  
He wanted to scream, but had no air in his lungs to do so. Everything was unbearable and sharp and painful and he wished he could just die already, if that was what was gonna happen anyway, and Valentine, distorted as Simon saw him through dying eyes, looked like a demon as he was smirking in triumph, probably all too pleased about Simon's upcoming destruction, which would get him one step closer to his ultimate goal.  
He felt his blood run out and it was fucking unbearable. He had died once already, but this was even worse - this was a fucking nightmare.  
And yet he didn't seem to die. It didn't seem to stop.  
Not even when he dropped to the floor, drained and weak and half-dead already.  
"WHY AM I NOT DEAD?", he wanted to scream, but nothing came out.  
He wanted to cry, but his eyes wouldn't blink.  
Clary. Clary. He thought of her, filled his head with her image, allowed his mind to lose itself in her.  
He saw her drawing, her tongue poking out in concentration.  
He saw her ramble on about a show she had started watching, excitement obvious in her body language, in the way she couldn't seem to stop talking, in the way she was pacing around.  
He saw her beneath him, kissing him, felt the softness of her lips against his own.  
He saw her in her Shadowhunter clothes, looking older and more serious than he'd ever seen her, runes he didn't recognise decorating her arms and neck like tattoos, and she eyed him and spoke in a calm and reassuring tone:  
"It's not your time yet."  
More pain.  
The blades had now started to tear open his wrists, slicing the flesh as if it were paper, and it hurt so fucking bad he wanted to scream, but he was fading, he was barely holding it together, and he didn't want to die but he also didn't want to have to hurt like this, to suffer like this.  
He felt weak and useless and worthless and pathetic and all the thoughts he'd always had and tried so hard to push away came crashing down on him, awakened by the feeling of his wrists being sliced open - a feeling more familiar than he'd like to admit, and equally as horrible as he remembered.  
And yet he remained limp - unmoving, not breathing, not even blinking, as if already dead. "You *are* already dead", he reminded himself. He wasn't human anymore. He was a creature, a disgusting creature. A bloodsucker. A disgrace.  
Finally, the torture was over. Simon couldn't tell if it had been seconds, minutes, hours, years - he'd lost all track of time, as he'd also lost track of everything else. His eyes were open, but see he could not. All he saw was shadows, vague shadows, and Clary in the middle of it all, unfazed and peaceful.  
It was sort of calming, in a way. It brought him a feeling of peacefulness too. Even if he was dying, starving to death, it was okay.  
At least she'd be by his side.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are appreciated!


End file.
